Forget Me Not: A Novel (Crossroads Crisis Center) (19 page)

“No.” He kept his gaze diverted for a long moment, then finally returned it to her. “Because I haven’t brought another woman into her house.” Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he glanced at the velvety night sky. “I thought I would resent seeing you working in her kitchen, but I didn’t.” He looked down at his feet.

“Ben, are you feeling guilty because you didn’t resent me being there?”

He bit at his lip. “Yeah. I guess I am.” He sighed. “No, I know I am. But it has nothing to do with you personally.”

His honesty surprised her, but it really shouldn’t have. According to Peggy Crane, he had been a good Christian before Susan and Christopher died. Now he was wealthy, respected, and half the women in the village and many beyond it would love to take him off the marriage market, but he wouldn’t have any part of that.

Peggy thought he had gotten used to being alone and liked it, but she was wrong. Karen saw in him what she felt inside and hadn’t spoken of aloud. That horrible loneliness, so painful and heavy it can’t be acknowledged, because if it is, its weight crushes the spirit. Why or how she knew that feeling remained a mystery to her, but she was certain of it.

Ben had an even harder time of it. He was horribly lonely
and
lost. She had her faith to sustain her, God to rely on and shelter her during life’s storms. Ben had turned away from God. He faced those storms on his own. How he could survive that was beyond her. It had to be agonizing.

“Karen? Did I offend you?”

“Oh no.” She smiled, waved that possibility off. “Sorry, my mind’s a little scattered at the moment, and I lost my thoughts.”

“I really didn’t mean to offend you.”

“You didn’t.” She gripped his arm and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Seriously. I was just thinking that I’d probably feel guilty too.”

His eyebrows shot up. “You would?”

“Oh yeah.” She plucked a leaf off a bush near the edge of the porch, then dropped down into the swing and patted the seat for him to join her. “It wouldn’t be justified, of course, but I’d still feel it.”

He sat beside her. “Do you know why?”

She twisted to look into his eyes. “Because I’d survived and they hadn’t.”

He looked at her. Waited.

“I’d feel like I’d failed them, I think.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “It’d eat at me that I was supposed to protect them and I hadn’t. I’d blame myself.” She saw in his eyes that she’d knocked a home run. That’s exactly what Ben felt.
Bless his heart
.

“I’d be an idiot to think any of that, but you know emotions.” She lightened her tone. “They don’t care about logic or reason or even common sense. They just hang out and drive you nuts wherever they can find a nook or cranny to rip you apart inside.”

Ben let out a sigh that heaved his shoulders. “I was supposed to protect them.”

“No one can protect themselves, much less anyone else, all the time, Ben. It’s an impossible standard.”

“You say that, but admit in my place, you’d feel guilty too.”

“Well, sure. When it comes to people you love, you expect more than the possible; you expect perfection—because you love them.”

He slid her a sidelong look. “Are you a shrink or something?”

“Mmm.” Was she? No subtle innate reaction either way. Yet Doctors Harper and Talbot had used medical terms unfamiliar to her. If she
was a shrink, she’d be familiar with the words, wouldn’t she? “I don’t think I am. But don’t I wish I knew?”

“Whatever you are, I think you’re a strong woman.”

“I’m not.” She whispered that confession. “To tell you the truth, I’m scared stiff.”

“You hide it well.”

“I hide nothing.” She looked out to the gently rustling leaves. “I lean hard on God. He holds me up.” She swerved her gaze back to Ben. “Frankly, if I just relied on me, I’d be laid out flat on the floor somewhere.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Believe it. I promise you, it’s true.”

“You’re not going preach to me, are you?”

“Absolutely not.” She stared off into the night and relaxed for the first time since she’d been carjacked. “You’re a grown man, fully capable of making your own decisions and defining your own path.” She leaned back. “I’m having enough trouble making sense of my own life right now. I don’t dare take on yours too.”

He grunted and looked out at the trees. “I envy you, Karen.”

“Me? Whatever for?”

“Because even though you don’t know who you are, you know exactly whose you are.”

“God’s child?”

He nodded.

He had a point. Still … “I’ll tell you a secret.” She let out a little laugh. “I’d be less than honest if I didn’t admit it’d be really nice to have someone human to hold my hand right now.”

“Even under guard, you’re afraid.”

“Scared half to death.” But not just of these two groups after her. She was afraid of all she didn’t know.

Their gazes locked, and he slowly lifted his arm. “I’ll hold your hand.”

Touched, she swallowed hard. The back of her nose stung and her eyes burned. She clasped his hand and twined their fingers. “Thank you, Ben.”

Long minutes passed with only the sounds of the squeaking swing and the deep night between them. It was comfortable. Companionable. And in it, they created a bond forged in having faced trials and challenges alone. And, if only for now, they would face them together.

In that, Karen found solace and an unexpected peace.

Ben broke the silence, talking about his life with Susan and Christopher—something Karen felt he hadn’t done often or with many. The conversation was relaxed and easy, and as midnight approached, she realized they had talked about nothing and everything, about all manner of things. Ben was sharp and witty and compassionate, and at some time, he’d probably been a strong debater.

“Well, it’s late and you’ve got to be exhausted.” He released her hand, staring at it as if he had forgotten he held it or he was reluctant to let go.

Sharing both those feelings, she stood. “It’s been a very long day after a very long night, but I really enjoyed this. A normal dinner and conversation was exactly what I needed. Thank you.”

He touched her cheek. “Thank you, Karen. I think I needed this too.”

“I expect you did.” She felt her smile falter. “I want to say something, but I’m not preaching, okay?” He stiffened.

“You couldn’t have saved them,” she said softly. “And Susan would hate you kicking yourself because you felt you could.”

“Would she?” Hope tinged his voice.

“Absolutely, she would.” Karen touched his sleeve. “You loved her, Ben, but you have to remember that she loved you too.”

“She did.”

“Actually, she’s probably pretty ticked off at you for feeling that guilt.”

“You didn’t know her, Karen. How can you say that?”

“It’s how I would react. I’d be really ticked off at you.”

“Three years, and I’ve never once thought of it that way.” He shook his head. “But, you know, you could be right. She likely would be ticked off at me.”

“Worse, if we’re being totally honest.”

“Worse?”

“Much worse.” She hiked up her jaw. “Susan had her life stolen. That’s one thing. But she’d see what you’re doing as you giving yours away as if it’s worth nothing.”

He looked away. “I don’t think I like the way that feels.”

“She wouldn’t like it either.” Karen certainly wouldn’t. “Just something to think about.”

He mumbled something under his breath, rubbing his neck.

Pleased he was thinking about it, she turned the doorknob and then stepped inside. “Good night.”

“If you need anything, call.”

“Thanks.” He seemed a little dazed.
God, I hope that’s a good thing and what You had in mind
.

She took a last look—still dazed—then closed the door, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. It was amazing how much her opinion of him had changed.

Understanding can do that, she thought, spotting a baseball bat and glove near the door. An uneasy feeling shimmered over her skin.
Stop it. Mark and his team, Ben, an elaborate security system—surely you’re safe
.

Logical, reasonable, yet the moment she closed the door and was alone, wariness settled back in. She’d been deliberately targeted, set up to believe she was Susan. Guided to the crisis center, to Ben specifically with Susan’s cross, and no one went to that much trouble for nothing.

Then there was her reaction to Gregory Chessman. It was instinctive. Overwhelming. Certain. What was that all about?

Having no answers, she needed a diversion to keep from getting worked up. She grabbed the bat and walked down the hall. A hot shower would do her a world of good.

Twenty minutes later, wearing a fresh set of scrubs and too wound up to sleep, she went out onto the little patio and sat in the white wicker rocker, then propped the ball bat against the table beside her. There were exterior lamps, but she didn’t turn them on. Soft amber rays from the light on the stove streaked through the window and stretched across the tile floor and furniture. She loved the feel of the little patio. Serene and quiet and comfortable—somehow special: a perfect place for prayer.

Karen bowed her head, expressing her gratitude for her life and safety, for Clyde finding her, and for the kindnesses Doctors Talbot and Harper and Peggy and Mel had shown her. For Ben. Maybe especially for Ben, who had stepped out of his own comfort zone to hold her hand.

Gunfire blasted the silence.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Three shots in rapid succession fired from inside the cottage!

Startled, Karen grabbed the ball bat, then dropped to a crouch in the deep shadows.

Inside, a man cursed, his muffled voice carried through the door to Karen. Her heart raced. She held the bat in a death grip, poised to strike.

With little warning, a man dressed head-to-toe in black and wearing a ski mask burst through the door in a near run.

Karen swung hard, caught him across the back.

He staggered, glanced back, then ran full out away from the cottage. The dark night swallowed him.

Karen stood scanning the woods, her knees locked to keep them from buckling, her blood pounding in her ears. The crunching sounds of someone approaching from the trees carried to her. He was coming back! He had a gun!

Hide, Karen. Hide!

Her feet didn’t want to move. She forced them, dropping again into the deep shadows.
God, help me. Please, help me!

“Karen!” Ben rushed toward the patio. “Karen, where are you?”

It was Ben.
Ben
. She dropped the bat and ran toward him, slamming against his chest, holding on to him for dear life. “He—he left.”

Mark arrived, a menacing black gun in his hand. “How many of them?”

She burrowed against Ben, hugged him hard, shaking like a leaf. “One. He was inside. I-I hit him with the bat.”

Ben closed his arms around her. “You weren’t injured?”

“No.” She spoke into his chest, not yet ready to give up the safety she felt in his arms. “He shot three times inside the cottage. I don’t know at what.”

“Which way did he go?”

She pointed to the side of the cottage, at the greenbelt between the cottage and the street.

Mark talked on a mike and ordered his men to search the grounds. “I’ll check the cottage, Ben,” he said, then went inside.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Ben rubbed little circles on her back.

“I’m scared.” Her voice cracked. “I’m really scared.”

He hooked her chin with his thumb and tilted her face up to look into her eyes. “Me too. But we’ll get through this, okay?”

“Okay.”

Mark came out. “All clear.” He listened to something being transmitted, then added, “Fresh prints where the fence was cut.”

They’d come back. “So much for my abductors not wanting to kill me.”

“It’s too soon to tell who it was, Karen.” Ben nudged her to move. “Let’s get inside. We’re easy targets out here.”

She didn’t want to let go of him. Had to make herself release him. Snagging a steadying breath, she walked into the cottage, feeling violated down to the marrow of her bones. This was to be her haven. Her safe place.

Instead, it warned her that there was no safe place.

Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide
.

The familiar feeling settled over her like a well-worn coat. She shivered with resentment, despising the sensation with authority and conviction.

“Stay here while I check the damage.” Ben left her at the kitchen bar and walked through the cottage.

She didn’t move. Couldn’t think.

Long minutes later, Ben returned, frowning. “He came in through the bedroom window. Popped the lock.”

“What did he shoot?”

“The bed.” His frown deepened and grim lines set alongside his mouth. “Obviously he thought you’d be in it, sleeping.”

Considering it was nearly one o’clock in the morning, that was a logical expectation. “So he wasn’t in there watching me when I came inside?”

“If he had been, he would have known where you were. He clearly didn’t, so I’d say no.”

That made her feel a lot better. “He must have come in after I went out onto the patio.”

“That’s where you were when he fired the shots?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’d agree.” Ben leaned a hip against the kitchen counter. “But he knew where the bedroom was, and that says he was watching closer than he should have been.” His jaw clamped shut. “We’ll fix that first thing in the morning.”

“I’m so sorry I’ve brought you all this trouble. I wish I could take it back.” She swallowed a hard lump in her throat and lowered her gaze to the glossy, black flat-top stove. His partial reflection shone in it. “You’ve had so much sorrow, and now I’m bringing it all back to you and adding more.”

“Karen, no.” Ben stepped toward her, gently clasped her upper arms. “This isn’t your fault. You didn’t do any of it.”

“But I might have done something to provoke it.” She risked a glance up, praying she wouldn’t see condemnation in his eyes. “I might have done something horrible, Ben.”

“Listen to me.” His expression softened. “No one has been harder on you than me. You can’t dispute it.” He paused, but she didn’t know what to say, so she remained silent, and he continued. “I was wrong about you. I nailed you as a scam artist after money. But now I know that’s not you or your way of living your life.”